Say You're Sorry
by Caness
Summary: PeterClaude. 1250 words. Pure, unadulterated fluff. Enjoy


"Are you sure?" Peter asked, eyes clouded with annoyance. Claude crossed his arms across his chest like a defiant child.

"M'not apologizin'," he insisted, lounging in one of Peter's rickety kitchen chairs. Peter grabbed Claude's arms, pulling them apart; deftly tying them to the back of the chair. "Oy! What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not untying you until you apologize," Peter said, pouting slightly. Claude only laughed, testing his bonds for strength.

"Did you somehow fail to mention you were in the Scouts, Peter?" Claude quirked an eyebrow, struggling harder now.

"I'm just one big joke to you!" Claude thought he was kidding, but this was no laughing matter. Not to Peter. The invisible man would have to take him seriously if he insisted on being right about the world. Claude frowned, stilling. "Apologize!"

"No. I've got nothin' to apologize for," Claude rebutted stubbornly. "People are all the same, Peter. They will tell you they love ya and then they'll leave ya and then—" And then Claude was being kissed by Peter.

He tried to protest, but that only caused Peter to lean farther down, clutching his shoulders tightly as he deepened the kiss. Claude couldn't find a way out of Peter's mouth. He couldn't move his hands, he couldn't reach Peter with his legs, and moving his mouth only served to _help _Peter. He sighed exasperatedly, and the young man finally pulled away. "What exactly do you think you're doing, lad?" Peter didn't answer him. Instead Peter sat in his lap, straddling him. "Peter," Claude warned. It earned him another kiss.

This time he could feel the sheer heat pouring off of Peter from every direction, seeping into his bones. It was harder not to kiss back this time. Peter's delicate hands were running up and down his chest as his tongue slid into Claude's mouth. He let out a small grunt. Peter shoved him back against the chair harshly. "Old bones here," Claude complained, but when he looked into Peter's eyes he saw _anger. _Not Peter's usual annoyance with him, but raw and terrible rage.

Before he could say anything more Peter was taking his mouth once more, unbuttoning his shirt simultaneously. Claude put everything he had into the kiss. He may have been a rotten old bastard, but there was no way in hell he wanted to see his empath this upset. Yeah, that's right! His empath!

Peter growled into the kiss, nipping Claude's lips in an attempt to domineer. Despite Claude's position in the kiss, he seemed to be dominating it, much to Peter's disapproval. The younger man pulled away, cheeks flushed, hair mussed. Claude couldn't suppress his thought that the boy looked absolutely ravishing that way.

"I'm not sorry," Claude reinforced, his grey eyes flickering with amusement. Peter sneered, ripping Claude's shirt off, sending buttons flying. He brought his palm down to rest at Claude's naval, mapping all of the older man's scars. Claude was becoming squirmy under all the scrutiny, so Peter decided to save the exploration of scars for another day, opting instead to lick experimentally at a nipple.

He was rewarded with a rather violent jolt from the man underneath him. Peter took it as encouragement, bringing his hand up to pinch Claude's nipple as he continued to tease the right with his lips and tongue, drawing ragged breaths and small cries from the bearded man. "Peter, please…" But Claude didn't know what he was begging for, only that, somewhere, his bones were telling him this was _wrong. _Peter pulled away a second time, and a strangled sigh made its way past Claude's lips. The anger dissolved and he just looked _concerned_. "Don't stop," Claude bit out, craning his neck to capture Peter's lips awkwardly.

Peter seemed to melt down into him then, and Claude forgot about Bennet's betrayal and any other factors but Peter's lips, which he took again and again. Peter smiled into his kisses, placing his hands gently behind Claude's head.

"I'm not going to break!" Claude finally shouted, having had enough of this ginger torture. He drew his knees up so that Peter and his hips fell flush with one another, eliciting a mewl from the long-haired boy. And there was that spark he so admired.

And then Peter calmly stripped Claude of his pants, scrambling to make short work of his own.

"Untie me," Claude commanded, his voice coming in ragged huffs as Peter palmed him through his boxers.

"Apologize," Peter countered, pulling the last piece of Claude's clothing down and off his ankles.

"No!" Claude barked as Peter knelt down to flick his tongue across the slit. "Please…" It was odd and slightly terrifying for Peter to have turned the tables on him so fast, and yet, he couldn't say this wasn't exactly what he had wanted in one way or another, no matter how much he preached to Peter about the suckage of human existence.

And then Peter was gone, and Claude was panicking. Was he just going to leave him here, naked, hard and wanting, tied to a kitchen chair? Maybe until he apologized. He shuddered at the thought, sometimes Peter could be such a girl.

"I heard that!" Peter called from the other room. He sounded like he was rummaging through something. He came back a few moments later, completely naked. Claude would never admit to how relieved he was that Peter had returned, but he suspected the younger man already knew. "I come bearing gifts," Peter said softly, swaggering over to Claude. He could do nothing but stare at those beautifully bright eyes. And that is why he didn't notice Peter placing the condom on Claude or settling back down on his thighs. But when Claude did look away he tensed.

"What are we doing?" Claude sounded intense and nervous, not at all the way Peter was used to him sounding. Claude as his mentor was strong and clever and abusive, but now Peter had the upper hand.

"_We _aren't doing anything." Peter picked up the other "gift" he had found: a tiny tube of lubricant. He smirked, looking at Claude the whole time he prepared himself. He wrapped his knees around Claude's thighs and made a little show for him, sliding in a finger, throwing back his head, thrusting against himself and groaning Claude's name. By the time he had inserted the third into himself, Claude was panting. Peter smirked, Claude had been punished enough.

He levered himself up, sliding his fingers out of his now-loosened opening, and settled himself down on Claude's hardened length. Claude let out a startled whimper, longing to touch… Peter created a rhythm designed to rip Claude apart; it was stiflingly slow and then it sped up, impossibly fast, but before Claude could come there was that brain-melting lethargy. "_Peter_," he hissed, growing impatient as he thrust up into the boy.

"Apologize," Peter asked one final time, and this time it was completely devoid of anger; a simply plea. Claude bowed his head and murmured something. "What was that?" Peter asked, stilling.

"I-I'm sorry," Claude choked out, screaming a litany of _sorry_s and _never happen again_s as Peter allowed him release. Peter rested his head in the crook of Claude's shoulder and sighed, reaching around the chair to untie his..what? His lover?

Claude brought his freed arms up around Peter, murmuring softly into the nearly dozing man's ear.

"I'm sorry I called your bangs silly."


End file.
